


Fly For Me

by Ikana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikana/pseuds/Ikana
Summary: It is ridiculous how a tiny spark affects you. A jump, a breath, a moment. Realisation dawns, sudden yet so smooth.Akaashi is the one in love. How shall he go on about it?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. The Strike of a Horned Owl

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the most random way I ever started a fic. I browsed twitter and came across @bokutofficial who just happened to mention their need of domestic fluff. 
> 
> That's it. That's my motivation. I saw the post and I wanted to deliver. It is the most adorable Bokuto Account I ever came across, give them a visit, I'm in love!
> 
> Despite being a little short, I plan on getting much longer in the second chapter. Consider this a warm-up <3

When he jumps, time fades. 

The speed of heart slows to nullity, the moment’s rush is deafening. How loud blood can be is to be witnessed solely in these short moments that take up aeons for Akaashi to digest. Roaring overlaps reality, his ears barricaded from the outside world. All he hears is pulsing sounds. 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Evenly and soothing altogether.

Slow motion ceases as fast as it has appeared, leaving the setter unprepared for the world to come back, crashing in. All eyes are on him, he knows. He sees the block and dreads it fiercely, but the limbs won’t move. As their Ace floats down his eyes cross with Akaashi’s, still it doesn’t wake him up. The dark blue orbs are fixed on him. Not the ball, and not the opponents either. Eternally on him. 

As the centre of the focus, Akaashi is aware he has to squat and to receive. Their libero is too far away, can’t make it to the spot. Yet instead the ball zips by and bombs into the ground. Uproar starts. Only faintly does it seep through to him. Team mates come running close, trapping him within an upset pile. He smells sweat and sees them gesture eagerly, yet everything he sees with honesty is Bokuto walking up and smashing down his soulder blade. 

“Don’t mind!” 

Those words crack the blockage from his ears. Lifted from his trance, Akaashi shakes the hesitation off. With his focus back his spirit takes new stance and readies to win back that point! 

\--- 

“Good work”, Yamiji announces once the match is over, barely won but succeeded nonetheless. Nobody asks Akaashi what has been wrong with him out there, nobody speaks of it. To Akaashi however it is an unforgivable mistake that might have cost them a set. He runs the fingers through his hair and dries the petulant strands with his towel until they spike in all directions. Team mates with shorter hair are already done. In his peripheral view the second year sees Bokuto leaning closer to a mirror, inspecting his face meticulously. It rips a smirk off Akaashi, but he doesn’t show. Instead he grabs the hair dryer and turns it on. 

He feels Bokuto’s golden eyes rest on him for a moment, but acts as if he doesn’t witness it. Eventually the Ace’s frame withdraws entirely from Akaashi’s vision, presumably getting ready to redress. They need to hurry up, the Setter knows, but his hair needs to be dry. Despite being strong and priding himself with great physical state, the black haired is still prone to catching colds and he doesn’t want to risk it. Bokuto on the other hand is less likely to fall ill, apparently too clad in warming muscle as to ever freeze to begin with. 

A knock on the shower room door makes him turn curiously. Their Ace stands in the door frame and motions him to hurry. With a sigh the younger turns off the dryer and runs his fingers through the hair again. It is not too bad, not wet but only slightly damp. “If Yamiji-san is impatient, please tell him I am ready in five minutes.” He unplugs the dryer with a sigh and turns. “Nah”, Bokuto replies wiggly. “Washio and Konoha aren’t done yet either.” He grins. While Akaashi winds the wire around his blow dryer he wonders what exactly makes Bokuto so impatient. It’s definitely not the butterflies for those flutter within Akaashi’s stomach, creating the uproar of impatience that he hides so well on his outside. What reasons might Bokuto have? Though he knows this gym rat doesn’t necessarily needs _reasons_ to be excited anyway. The superfluous energy always channels in form the intense moods. A quirk that seems highly appealing for the younger who cannot comprehend how such expressive behaviour goes along with the natural happiness. 

As he packs up and wraps the towel around his hip, he still tries to pluck his hair into shape. Futile, yet something he always does. Bokuto observes the fingers play with the tips, chuckles amused. They approach the changing room’s bench together. Konoha is about to finish, Akaashi sees. Washio seems to have left already too. Akaashi really is the last one who’s not done. Admittedly it is unusual for anyone to wash their hair after a match, but the sweat has drenched the black haired today, so he has decided to do so nonetheless. Just in case he always carries the equipment anyway. 

Paying little attention to the fact he drops the bottles of shower gel and shampoo into his bag, places the dryer besides. Only then he begins to dress properly. In the meantime Bokuto flops down onto the bench and stretches. “What was that today?”, the elder asks casually. In turn Akaashi merely hums as the shirt goes above his head. It is nothing he needs to talk about, he knows Bokuto is more sensitive to vibes than the owl cares to recognise. But the eager voice keeps pushing him. “ Hey, Akaashi.” The other turns his head in spite of knowing Bokuto will do nothing but push further. “So?” The Ace leans in, causing Akaashi to take a step back to maintain his personal space. Bokuto keeps wiggling though, twists and turns weirdly with the repeated question of “So? So? So?” He doesn’t stop until Akaashi waves him off, huffing annoyed before grabbing his jacket to zip it close. 

There might be a few ways out of the situation, yet the real problem he had to solve is if Akaashi actually wants to scurry out. For a moment his eyes focus on the ceiling, pondering in silence. Bokuto watches him with so much curiosity it’s practically burning the younger.

He could answer upfront, admitting his awe he perceives for his senior. What makes this inapt is the Ace’s desire for praise and admiration. Bokuto would get high on it and presumably brag about it until everybody knows. The risk was big here.  
He could lie about it, claiming it was a cramp. Lying is out of the question though, Bokuto would either sense it or straight out believe it and panic over it. The fussing that would result from it is nothing Akaashi wants to expose himself to, neither if he’s seen through, nor if he’s not.  
He could brush it off and downplay it as lack of attention, which it basically was in one way or another. This option would not move anything forward anyhow. 

For a moment he closes his eyes as he exhales. The stare is still so strong on him, impaling him like a barbecue skewer. “Akaashi?” The confused voice makes him huff. Bokuto really is a little bit too pushy and concerned for the Setter’s liking, but isn’t that the thrill of it? So he turns towards him and gives his Captain a mysterious smile instead. “Would you believe if I told you something caught my attention?”, he asks smoothly and throws the bag over his shoulder. Being confronted with such a cryptic sentence the confusion visibly rises in the owl’s head. It rips a gentle chuckle from Akaashi who is no longer capable of withholding his amusement. 

“What?”, he hears the rough voice ask eagerly. “What was it?!” The black haired still senses the intense eyes that linger on him as he passes the young man, but doesn’t bother to give a reply. He’d leave Bokuto guessing for a little longer. 

\---

The next time Akaashi is confronted with his fascination for his Captain it happens out of the blue. During his studies, international radio gives him information in the background, the English voice Akaashi has no problem understanding with blabbering ahead about international news. From time to time a song is speckled in. Those minutes are always taken to revise what he has learned within the period of when the voice speaks. The occasional distraction of actually listening is welcome, for it tests Akaashi’s focus and his ability to repeat the knowledge despite interrupted concentration. 

A song is announced that Akaashi has never heard of before. Blue eyes skim along the lines of the book in front of him. Eventually the lids fall closed. The music is nice he thinks as he lets it sink in. Smooth tunes introduce. From one second to the next it becomes so powerful it feels overwhelming. For being a man who is not usually prone to music he has to admit, this one captures his attention as the sounds of what he considers to be bells let the entire mood of the music explode instantly. It reminds him of Bokuto and his mood swings. The rhythmic drums make his fingers tap and he leans back. The lyrics perform the finishing blow. A chuckle escapes him as he feels warmth spread entirely. “Before you take my heart, reconsider.” Oh as if Bokuto would ever reconsider. 

The music feels so strong to him, it is ridiculous. Full of contradictions, want and need and passion, rejection and withdrawal. The only thing Akaashi thinks is not true about the song is the line “I’m over you”, because that is something that he is clearly far away from. But the dynamics in the tune drop Akaashi into awake evening dreams. He sees Bokuto jump to it, imagines him countre-jour when the beat hits its wildest peak, sun blinding him and swallowing the silhouette that’s shaped like an owl mid air, ready to strike. Akaashi feels the heat coming from the image, feels the sun warm his skin. Along the lines Akaashi sees himself in the scene as well, standing passively and watching, just like in this one match they’ve played. Cool and swept away, playing over the longing that he feels. He is rationality in this, the cool side that doesn’t show the truth. He identifies as “Winter’s rain”. 

Before the song ends his phone buzzes and drags him out of the perfection of the moment. Maybe he can look up the song later on and have a proper look at the lyrics to see how well they actually apply. Probably not so much, but the power of the music is indisputable. 

It’s Bokuto who has sent him a picture of homework. He asks for help. Akaashi covers his eyes with his palm for a moment for it takes him a deep breath to comprehend as to why a third year would ask a second year for help with their studies. But he is too kind to Bokuto sometimes, so he does have a look after all. It’s instantly that he can tell the problem. What Bokuto lacks here are the basics in mathematics, things he should have learned during the second year. Winged by the song Akaashi feels especially generous and begins to solve the problem as far as he knows how to, giving the basic instructions and writing perfectly neat explanations for every single step. That is photographed and sent back within fifteen minutes. As a gratification Akaashi gets a happy owl meme sent back. It makes the younger snort but also smile. How is it that his Captain is such a dork? How is it that his Captain is constantly on his mind? When was it that Bokuto has become a constant part of his space-outs?


	2. On the Lookout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi doesn't know how to interpret his feelings, so he does some research.

A confession is more difficult to initialise than Akaashi has anticipated. For days now he rolls the mere _idea_ of it back and forth in his head, not sure if this is a wise idea to begin with. 

What he has started with was the research. His browser history is filled with questions of _’How do you realise your feelings?’_ , _’What does it feel like to be in love?’_ , or _’How do I time a confession?’_. 

He still wonders if there are things he needs to consider, if anything is different if he confesses to a man _as a man_ , or if the advices for straight people in love apply to potential same sex interests as well. Obviously Akaashi has asked his default search engine for differences as well, has tried to find clues about how to differ very close friendship from affectionate feelings, but has found nothing but vague, contradicting or highly dubious articles about these matters. 

Akaashi doesn’t doubt his sexuality per se, as someone with no experience to prove him wrong or right he simply thinks it is a wise decision to be cautious about these things. He knows he is in an age where hormones are about to go more and more wild and doesn’t want to be biased by physical change and development. The line he plans to walk on is thin and fragile. It could mean the fall into an abyss of an ending friendship, or the elevation of friendship to lovers. Gain or loss were the options, the possibility of still lingering in between after bringing up something such out of the ordinary is something Akaashi excludes from the repertoire of likely chances.

His fingers race along his laptop’s keyboard as he types _’Legal age for homosexual relationships’_ in order to find some clues about if this was even a thing allowed to do in Japan. What would interest him more though is, if Bokuto would consider it, legal or not. That is nothing any search engine in the world can tell him, that is a matter he still needs to ask a human, not a machine, however the convenience of encyclopaedias and the internet have rendered him awkward and clueless about specific topics. 

Bokuto is an easy type, he would probably join a conversation about feelings without realising where Akaashi wants to go with it, but he might as well try and use the airheaded traits of his best friend to his advantage. At this point it is important for Akaashi to remind himself that he doesn’t take his best friend for a fool, that is the last noun applicable, but a bit oblivious to reality is something that seems quite well fitted here. 

Without pressing the keys his fingers dab down on the board, causing quiet tapping sounds to rise from the action. As his tongue flicks out to lick his lips he realises how nervous he is about the journey of discovering his own feelings. These mindless gestures are none he usually does. Being alone in your room is not so bad sometimes, he thinks. Bokuto would have noticed these minor details, that is something Akaashi is very sure about. Despite the wildness his Captain brings, Akaashi knows that for those the owl cares about he is very attentive and prone to notice even the most subtle changes.

Arguable. Akaashi takes a deep breath and straightens his back to regain a proper posture. As he exhales to feel the air leave his lungs his eyes fall closed. The other’s image is there the seconds the lids lay the shadows over his vision. He sees him, halfway turned towards Akaashi, clothes sloppy, wide and comfortable. No uniform, no jersey. Just Bokuto. The head of the imaginary person tilts curiously and offers a flashing smile. Like right after a good score or of the rare times when Akaashi answers to Bokuto’s occasional compliment fishing during a game. He’s beautiful in his head, natural and happy, strong and potent and appealing. 

The next exhale Akaashi gives is shaky. His mind is dashing off, liberating from the grasp his common sense has had to it. The word the young Setter refuses to think out loud lingers in the back of his head. _Sexy._

It feels like a red flag considering it to describe his Captain with it, yet he knows his subconscious suggestion of putting it is highly accurate. There is more to this man though, more than physical appeal. More than what his hormones spike in him. Bokuto is light at heart, floating with ease among people and is so good at socialising. Ever since Akaashi’s entrance in Fukurodani, the Ace’s pure and honest expression of emotions has taken him aback and captured all the same. 

The picture in his mind begins to change, Akaashi appears out of nowhere like reverse dissolving, materialises and then they kiss. Soft and tender like it is their first time doing so. He can almost _feel_ Bokuto’s hesitation, can almost _experience_ his own insecurity as their lips do nothing but touch in lazy motions, eyes closed, one hand in each other’s napes to make sure none pulls away too soon. 

The real body becomes warm with the sensation, his neck burns up. To fully fall into his dream Akaashi slowly raises a hand and brushes the fingers along his other arm lazily, granting himself tender tingling of a comforting nature. 

To his surprise he lets Bokuto take over, depicts him leaning over, grasping him with a second hand, steadying his head and licking warm and wet, so sweet and eager between his lips. _He longs it, wants it, feels his lips open and-_

His eyes spring open. Akaashi can do nothing but curse himself! He’s breathless and his lips have opened, he pants and sighs and wonders what the damned hell this has been. The sensation he has felt leave him dizzy and confused, helpless and expose him to a tormenting linger of faint fear. If he imagines these things, does it mean his mental preparations already exceed the doubt he feels about the entirety? He cannot go faster than what he contemplates to be safe.

In fact nothing about it is something he takes for safe anyway. Yet dreaming of so much when nothing is initiated to begin with is not the style Akaashi likes to move along like. His fingers tremble as they rise from his arm to ghost over his meagrely parted lips. The ragged breath puffs against the digits, leaves them hot and somewhat moist. No experience in what it actually feels like doesn’t dull his fantasy. It must be amazing he thinks, melting together in mutual consent, leaning against sunshine warmth radiating cleanly scent of a past shower. Frames lining up together, fitting close like sculptures created to be embraced, position set into stone for all eternity. 

A nervous smile tugs at his lips. Oh no, he has lost it. That awareness hits him hard. The secure stance of withholding expectations that might never come, it’s gone. The ground got stolen beneath his feet somewhere along the past few hours and now everything he does is sway helplessly. His feelings overwhelm and take him over. What is it that he would offer the devil just to gain a _single_ gentle kiss?

His soul. His youth. 

Now this was exaggeration. Enough with this. The idea of going this far strikes him as such a ridiculously dramatic thing to do, it is time to return to earth. The next exhale is steadier, more grounded, more _grounding_ so to speak. Cool roams through his arms, the heat from his neck disappears steadily, floods out and spreads equally throughout the limbs. Normality returns. It mists him in like cloud from below, rises to fog up all unreachable ideas. Like a sponge they get sucked from him, the smile falls to blankness and then the sensation is gone. The cleansing cloud drops, everything is clear, the head mute. 

Akaashi’s arms stretch awkwardly. The remaining feeling of dullness is still there, the motion is mechanic as the hands tense and straighten, fan the fingers open and let them wiggle for a while. 

Reality is not a kiss. Not even a confession. Reality is a young man who is stunning through and through, clueless and perfect in the latter trait. It is not _better_ that Bokuto doesn’t know, Akaashi doesn’t fit into the patterns of a desperate damsel in distress who wants and self-denies at the same time. What he does think is that it is better that Bokuto doesn’t realise until Akaashi has sorted everything out for himself. If those emotions are genuine or hormonal, if hormonal influence invalidates a crush or maybe enforces the likelihood of success. Does physical appeal indicate sentiment or compatibility? Is his appeal physical to begin with? 

With a deep sigh his research continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have a new job and I move away for it, my writing flow is interrupted and my focus a bit messy. I'll be back more regularly once I'm settled. Until then, please bear with this short chapter <3

**Author's Note:**

> The song Akaashi listens to is Summer Son  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uIFISklvXY  
> (No I don't understand how to embed links)


End file.
